


The Evil Ex

by suzvoy



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-25
Updated: 2011-07-25
Packaged: 2017-10-21 18:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzvoy/pseuds/suzvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't know why, but Dad has this thing about being home by 3am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Evil Ex

**Author's Note:**

> Future fic, spoilers for 513. Many thanks to the lovely nel_ani!

You don't know why, but Dad has this thing about being home by 3am. You tease him about it - it's like your *duty* as his son - claiming he's getting old and set in his ways.

Inevitably he'll tell you to fuck off and try to distract you, but not before you see him glance towards something in his bedroom (although you'll never say anything, you know it has something to do with that one drawer next to his bed you've never been able to open).

And then, one day, you meet Justin.

You know that technically it's not the first time, but all you remember of Justin are hazy images of blond hair and big teeth.

You hate him. Dad's loved him forever and Justin never came back to visit, not once. Dad flew out to New York a few times a year - *every* year - but Justin never, ever came to Pittsburgh.

Until now.

He still has big teeth.

"Hi, Gus!" he greets, like he's known you your whole life, and it's a good thing he hasn't tried to hug you because you'd probably just end up punching him.

"Hey," you mumble as bitchily as possible - your Dad *is* Brian Kinney - and it's like he doesn't even *notice*.

Even more irritating is the way Dad's acting. You've seen him around men - lots of men, though thankfully you've never actually seen him fuck anyone - and he is The Man. If you *had* to be gay (although you haven't tried pussy yet, so who knows?) you'd wanna be like him - strong, confident, demanding. A predator.

But since Justin arrived at the diner a few minutes ago, all Dad can do is glance at him surreptitiously. They'd hugged - awkwardly, you thought with satisfaction - but since then they've both been carefully eyeing each other between talking with everyone else.

The whole gang's there, including both of your mom's and JR. The four of you moved back to Pittsburgh three years after leaving. Mom'd said it was because Bush's second term had ended and things were better now, and you hadn't cared if that was the real reason or not. You were just glad to be near Dad again.

Keeping a close eye on Dad and The Evil Ex, you wait to see what happens. Nearly everyone is sitting in a booth by now, and you watch very carefully as - instead of sitting next to Justin - Dad slides in next to Blake.

Shooting Justin a triumphant smirk, you roll your eyes at his confused expression. He obviously doesn't get it.

Stupid *and* big teeth. There's no chance Dad is ever gonna fuck him again.

***

They've fucked each others brains out by the next time you see them.

It's totally gross. They've got their hands all over each other as you sit down to dinner at Aunt Debbie's, a welcome home celebration for 'Sunshine'.

Jesus, what a dumb nickname.

You watch, appalled, as Justin nuzzles into Dad's throat, or Dad cups his right hand around the back of Justin's neck, or as they just generally grope each other. Every now and then Justin swipes something from Dad's plate and eats it, grinning with those huge teeth the whole time. Dad'll look pissed for all of three seconds before grinning himself - grinning! - like it's *cute* or something.

They don't really pay much attention to anything going on around them, murmuring things to each other that you decide you *really* don't want to hear.

Opportunity comes when Dad goes to take a leak and Justin starts clearing up dishes. Debbie objects but he insists, and you quickly volunteer to help. Cornering him by the sink, you speak quietly.

"Are you planning on leaving again?"

Obviously surprised, Justin lets the bowl he's holding clunk down into the sink. "What?"

"Are you going back to New York?"

He frowns. "Maybe from time to time, but-"

"Because if you're going to leave him again, just do it now and get it over with," you tell him. "This false hope stuff is bullshit. You didn't see what he was like while you were gone for *nine fucking years*. What he was like whenever he came back from seeing you. He-" You break off, surprised at the tightness of your throat, remembering nights spent in the loft after you came back to Pittsburgh, Dad's sleep-roughened voice telling Justin to keep it down when it was you who had the TV on too loud.

Understanding finally, finally flickers in his eyes. Reaching out with a free hand, he touches your arm and meets your gaze squarely. "I never left your dad, Gus. Never."

You don't buy it, and it looks like it's up to you to fix the problem.

You start the next time you're alone together with Dad. You're at the loft and though Justin isn't there, his stuff is - boxes and a computer and Dad totally isn't freaking out about all this shit lying around his space.

"You should get rid of him," you tell him as he sits at his Mac, probably looking at porn. "He's nothing but trouble."

"Jesus," he mutters, clicking the mouse and not looking up. "It's like talking to Mikey fifteen years ago. Maybe he impregnated the wrong muncher."

"I'm serious, Dad. I don't want him to hurt you again." You pause, knowing he won't like what's coming. "I know you don't like talking about feelings and shit, but I know how much you love him. And he's not good enough for you. He never came and saw you, not once, not once in nine fucking-"

"You think it was any easier for him?" he interrupts, making you frown as he looks up. "Not being able to come back here? Not seeing all the people and places he grew up with? Not seeing his family unless they went out there?"

What the fuck is he talking about? "*He's* the one who left, who never came back-"

"Look," he sighs, "don't shit on Justin. You don't know all the details, so just stay the fuck out of it."

He's not making any sense. "Dad-"

"Fuck!" he yells, pushing up to his feet and moving over to the counter where he pours himself a shot of beam. "Look..." he begins, his back to you, staring down at his glass. "He did come back now and then. We tried it but it just seemed to make things...not as easy to deal with. So we decided he'd stay in New York until he was ready. And when he was ready," he quickly lifted the glass, gulping down the drink, "*then* he'd come back home. Permanently." He laughed, once. "Only 'we' didn't decide. I asked." He paused, pouring another shot. "I was the asshole who wouldn't let him visit."

You stare at his back, stunned.

That, of course, is the moment the door to the loft slides open.

"Shit, it's cold!" Justin exclaims, quickly sliding the door shut and throwing whatever he obviously bought at the art store onto the sofa. "Hey, Gus." Unbuttoning his coat, it soon joins the bag along with his scarf.

"Hey!" he says to Dad, his tone going up as he approaches, but his smile quickly turns into a frown. "Something up?"

"Me," Dad retorts, pulling Justin to him then quickly yelping and pushing him away. "Your nose is fucking freezing!"

"Told you it was cold out," he grins, leaning in again to try and rub the offending nose against Dad's skin.

"Fuck off!" Dad laughs, and when he uses his left hand to push on Justin's shoulder, you see it.

The ring.

The ring on Dad's left hand.

 _Holy shit._

Your eyes move rapidly and you see that Justin's wearing one too, and in your shock you've missed some of their conversation because Dad's clearly tugging Justin towards the bathroom.

"Gus," Dad says, grinning down at the man fighting with him, "do whatever the hell you want, but if you stay here you're just gonna hear us fuck."

Yeah, like you're not used to that. You were brought up by Mom and Mom, and those two aren't exactly quiet. You figure you must be the only straight guy in the entire world who doesn't find the idea of two lesbians together hot.

Then they're gone and the door to the bathroom is sliding shut, and the shower is starting followed by a yell of, "Jesus, Brian! We're supposed to take our clothes off first!"

Scratching the side of your head, you look towards the bedroom. Moving on instinct, you're up the few steps in seconds, clambering over the bed and pulling open the drawer that you've never been able to open.

It's empty.

~FINIS


End file.
